


Immortal to Mortal

by DeepNerd



Category: Tokyo Mew Mew
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepNerd/pseuds/DeepNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people of Earth revolted leaving Deep Blue in a horrid situation. He manages to stop the leader but at a terrible price. He died leaving his being in a coma for 15 years. The Elder council has seen his decision to stop the leader as rash and the god is suspended, meaning he is now mortal for the time being and of course another revolt is on the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immortal to Mortal

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a angst story. Maybe. I don't know. Its something. Its one of my newer stories I started before joining.

 “These gold bracelets on your wrists will block the Mew Aqua’s rapid aging process.”

“Meaning?”

“You are grounded. These bracelets will not let the Mew Aqua revert you to your original form. They will not let the Mew Aqua rebuild and recharge. You are going to age like a mortal until you matured. These bracelets do not exactly block the power. It will gradually grow, the power that is.”

“I see. These nuisances will only be removed when my body matures and the power becomes too great. I will have to get used to this childish voice for the time being. But I must ask. How exactly did you manage to place these on my being? As I recall, once I ‘die’ my body vanishes inside the Mew Aqua. And is reborn at a rapid rate, making it nearly impossible to block my powers at this state.”

“Indeed. Placing those on your being was indeed difficult considering the fact that your body does disappear and the Mew Aqua rebuilds a new one. However, this death gave us time to consider your punishment.”

“Time? Ah… the death was so grand it made the regeneration process longer… meaning I was a dormant inside the Mew Aqua for how long?”

“10 years.”

“IMPOSSIBL-”

“But it is not. Your body was destroyed, down to the last cell. The Mew Aqua had nothing to build off of except your DNA, since you are merged with the cursed element. The element had to rebuild your memories, personality... Once the Mew Aqua showed a sign that you will be born, we immediately slowed down the regeneration by using those very bracelets. You were born, yes, but slowly.”

“I was an infant? Amusing.”

“Yes and you were in a coma for 5 years.”

“And I awoke yesterday… Pray tell, how you fools managed to run this planet without me ‘barking orders?’”

“Oh... So you’ve heard the soldier’s insults…”

“No I heard yours.”

A different member of the council spoke. “We would never insult you! Our savoir!”

“And yet you put me on ice.”

“For a good reason! We-”

“‘Grew tired of having a brat run our planet.’”

“NEVER.”

“Oh? You deny these-”

“Enough of this. Deep Blue-sama. You are under house arrest,” the council member that started the conversation cut the immortal ‘child’ off.

“Reason?”

“For getting involved over trifling matters and getting yourself killed. And in the worst way possible. Vaporization.”

“It was not my fault that all my men were killed in that battle. It was not my fault that the humans acquired one of our ships. How is that trivial? Dealing with human revolution. My attention was on the revolt leader. I wasted their leader a-”

“And they got on your blind side and fired that weapon. That’s your excuse? Its trivial dealing with humans. Let them revolt, kill them afterward. We are superior. Excuse me for saying this but you, Deep Blue-sama, are trivial yourself now. Your actions cause you to die. Your actions alone are why you are in this state. An imbecilic god is no god of mine.”

The one called ‘Deep Blue’ became silent, clenching his jaw. He turned on his heels and left the council. The nine men shouted, their voices are overlapping each other become ineligible.

He stopped, his back turned to the nine men. Their voices stopped.

“I am not imbecilic… You nine insignificant fools would not be breathing if I had not stopped that revolt. They wanted to lynch you, place your head on spikes, and piss on your dead bodies. The next time that this revolt happens, I will not interfere. I will allow them to do as they please. Including killing you all. Maybe I will assist.” Even though his voice resembles a five year old child, he is still threatening.

The room became deathly silent.  The child continued to walk, leaving the stunned men behind.

“What about you!?” one shouted. “What did they want to do with you!?”

The god is gone.

* * *

 

That is when Deep Blue left the palace. That very night. He wanted to leave the toxic place with toxic leaders. (Even though he is one himself. Toxic. However, his intentions actually are understandable. Even if those decisions kill lives.) The immortal walks the dark streets. While he is strolling, many adults came up to the lord asking for his parents, feigning concern. The lord replied in this manor:

“I am fine, miss. I know where I am going.”

“My parents are over there.”

“Sir, I don’t need you to walk with me,” talking in that childlike voice. It starting to get annoying. The constant coming and going of adult Cyniclons and humans also became intolerable.

He does not know why he left. But then again he does. He is tired. Tired of the Council and all their nonsense. Tired of being a figure head. (Technically he is more than just a figure head.) Tired of the petty wars. Tired of practically anything. But he will miss the fun. The fun in battle.

And if he is going to age like a mortal, he better act like one. So mingling with the commoners is a start.

And the streets are packed. Everyone is everywhere. Lights are everywhere. Lanterns, sparklers, streetlights, fireworks.

“A festival?” he thinks out loud. Children are running freely, shouting incoherent noises, squealing. They are having fun. Is this what commoner fun looks like? This fun not look like fun. It looks revolting.

He walks into the crowd, dodging the people; trying not to get run over by drunken adults and kids running around in a chaotic manner. He tries to find a quiet place but that is nearly impossible in these kind of events. There is noise everywhere. Must be something huge.

“-is gone!”

What? A speaker? Everyone is crowding around the man, who is standing on a crate, waving his arms in a frantic manner. The crowd is cheering and the speaker’s hushes at them to be silent, a grin is evident on his face.

“I have just came from the palace! As you people know I have been working there for the past 10 years as a spy and not once have I seen the tyrant Deep Blue! He is gone!”

The crowd erupted. They shouted, they cheered, and they stamped their feet. And Deep Blue is in the center of it. He looks around at all the smiling faces. He curses. The revolt will start again. Soon. And he will not be able to stop it this time, in his current state. That is when his eyes widen in realization and Deep Blue grins. Perfect. He will not try to stop this revolt. He will just watch on the side lines, laughing as the castle burns along with those old fools.

The god stops listening to the speech and continues his stroll. He looks at all the colourful tents, the colourful people walking in and out, doing flips and such. Street performers.

“Would you like one?”

Deep Blue would never say he jumped at the voice. His shoulders just moved, twitched. He did not get startled.

“Whoa didn’t mean to surprise you, young one!” the voice chuckled, amusement is evident. Deep Blue resisted the urge to strangle the owner of the voice. Five year olds have no concept of death. So of course the crime will look like an accident. The god slowly turned, looking the man in the eye, who shivered since Deep Blue’s eyes are like ice. Cold. “Anyhow, would you like one?” He held out a gel coated apple on a stick. The apple is covered in a bronze substance that Deep Blue has never seen before. He scowled internally, lecturing himself for not knowing the name of the frozen gel. The man stared at the god, who stared at the apple. Deep Blue can tell that the man is becoming uncomfortable.

The man handing out the desert cleared his throat. “I will ask once more I suppose… Would you like a Caramel Apple? It’s something decent that the humans came up with.” The man knelt down to Deep Blue’s height.

“Caramel?” the god said, tasting the name. He licked his lips. The gel does not look appetizing but the name, however, tugged at him. Piqued his interest. Deep Blue slowly reached for the apple, wrapping his fingers on the wood supporting the caramel coated apple.

“Yes caramel! It’s actually pretty good,” The man smiled. He let the god take the apple. Deep Blue stared at it, analyzing the food. How is he supposed to actually eat it? He ran his fingers over the gel, frowning at the sticky sensation on his fingers. He sighed. He might as well.

Deep Blue licked one of his sticky fingers and his eyes widened at the sweet flavour. The taste danced in his mouth. But that was only a fraction of the full picture. He did the same to his other fingers, cleaning them of the sticky, yet sweet, caramel.

“Good huh?” The man will not stop smiling. It is making the god uneasy, that constant smiling. He feels like something is not right. But today is a celebration. Why would anyone do any indecent behaviors on this night?

Deep Blue nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the man’s.

“Well I must be going. Got to hand out some more,” the man rose, placed his hand on the god’s head like he was petting a cat, ruffled his hair, and trotted away, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Deep Blue watched him go, face blank. Then he combed at his bangs, placing them neatly back in place. He glared down at the apple in his hand. Again, how is he supposed to eat this?

“Perhaps I should have asked him,” he muttered. Then he scowled, externally this time. He nearly threw the apple to the ground, nearly, when an idea came upon him. He realized that the gel seems to be dissolvable. He just needs to use his tongue.

Which is petty. But the apple does taste good.

The god walks around the festival, holding the stick in both of his hands, looking as innocent as he can be. He can tell that the caramel is melting since it’s becoming messy. It is loud. But all festivals are like that.

He is actually more or less surprised that no one has suspected that he is the tyrant Deep Blue. Even as he is in this form, he looks absurdly like his older self, except his eyes are much larger and childlike.  And his hair is shorter, it falls to his upper back. However, no one has actually seen the god in ten-possibly fifteen- years. And the town’s folk are having way too much fun. But he does get some glances every now and then.

The first thing he noticed about the festival is how bright it is. Everyone seems to be wearing bright colours that makes Deep Blue’s eyes hurt. Everything just glows. He looked down at the grey tunic he is wearing. Grey does not suit him what so ever. It really doesn’t. Not even the black pants that rest under the tunic. The pants fall to his knees. He looks so informal that he is physically hurting.

He misses his robe. The dark blue robe he constantly wore, even in battles. He never minded how everyone else who lived in the palace wore these fancy articles of clothing and pranced about in frills and jewelry. He liked his robe, a symbol of power. The clothing was easy to move around in, considering how it flared out and long it must have looked. But he liked how the cloth moved, how elegant he looked when slicing someone’s head off. He even liked how good the clothing looked when dirtied with blood. The contrast of dark red against dark blue. Speaking of red, there is red lining inside the coat that is alone visible in rapid movement. Such as wind or elegant sword play. He misses that too.

He stopped walking and found that he is back in the center of the festival, where the speaker was bloating about Deep Blue’s disappearance. The speaker came back. Now he looked excited, his long ears are twitching.

“Friends!” he shouted, arms out. “I have something that will please you all!”

What he pulls out from behind him makes Deep Blue’s blood run cold. He recognizes that familiar blue.

“I have here his beloved robe! Since that bastard Deep Blue is gone he will not be needing it, will he?” the speaker mocking and his grin widened when a unison of ‘no’s’ emerged from the crown. People are screaming, trying to grab at the robe. To break it. To tear at it, hoping that the wearer is still wearing it.

“I have a feeling that _Deep Blue-sama_ is not gone! Just weak at the moment. Maybe he is here right now! We should send him a message! The revolt will start again! I know that he will not be there to stop it. Now as for this. Shall we _burn it!!?_ ”

The crowd went wild as the speaker lifted the robe. Deep Blue does not know when the robe caught on fire. Or how. He just blinked and there are orange and red flames dancing on the clothing, burning it.

And the entire time, the whole damn time, the child is grinning, fire dancing in his teal eyes.

* * *

 

The streets have gone quiet after a few more hours. Deep Blue is on a swing set and alone, not another soul in sight. His ice eyes are glaring at the unfinished cavity on a stick, wondering if he should finish it or not. He never really cared for sweets nor enjoyed them. But this apple was good and it would be a shame to waste it.

His thoughts left the apple and went to the speech episode. How did those mortals manage to grab a hold of his garb? Now that is more intriguing than the absurdly sweet apple. The speaker did say he was a servant in the palace. Maybe he went through Deep Blue’s personal belongings. Impossible, his room is heavily guarded and that is where Deep Blue resided while in the coma. And the speaker said that he himself has never seen Deep Blue. Period. Maybe a guard sold it to the mortal. Quite possible since half of the guards spread those foul lies. Corruption at its finest.

However, if a guard really wanted Deep Blue dead, said guard could have just killed him whilst he was unconscious. But there is no fun involved. Strike that thought.

Then his thoughts move to the fire and how he felt. Deep Blue cannot explain it for himself but he never felt scared just…. Excited. Blood is going to be spilt soon. Revolution and chaos will follow and that thought right there is exciting to him. People slaughtering each other for god knows what. Red staining the beautiful blue planet and a god standing over thousands of dead bodies, laughing as more and more follow.

“How quaint…” Deep Blue chuckled. “Ah mortals are such fascinating creatures. Pity that most of them will die but alas,” He grins. “That is just how mortals are.” 

Mortals are most intriguing. Especially the humans since they are the most destructive. And Deep Blue despises them so. They are so polluting, wasteful. And he hates how his own **race** is just getting along with them. Smiling at them as they pass on the streets. Then whisper behind their backs.

And humans stink.

Deep Blue notices that they have a certain smell about them that is most revolting. He wrinkles his nose, remembering the foul smell. He will admit he feels like regurgitating every time he smells a human. Which is saying something because regurgitating is foul and painful. But never mind the smell. Humans are awful.

Because they are so selfish and naïve. Deep Blue chuckles.

“Mortals are simply awful creatures…That is why they are so fun.”

* * *

 

Deep Blue kept this charade up for a few more days. Walking around town, looking at shops, admiring the building, sleeping in the park, and going hungry. His stomach throbbed and he tried to ignore it. This is a new experience for him. Since he is (or was at the moment) immortal, he never experienced pain or hunger or practically anything. Because he never had to. And this hunger feeling is the worst. His stomach will not stop growling and the organ hurts. And he feels extremely light headed.

“Shut up,” the god mumbled as his stomach growled for the fifteenth time today. He grips the fabric around his torso in his fist, a pained look is painted on his features. “Stop it.”

He glares down at his midsection while he walks. (More like tripping over his feet since he is so tired)

Something tickles his nose. Deep Blue sniffs.

“Bread…” he turns toward the scent and his mouth waters (he then quickly wipes away the drool, hoping that no one noticed.) He stares at the golden lump. It’s beckoning at him, calling his name and chanting ‘eat me!’ over and over again. The bread is emitting a golden light from its gold crust. And it smells so good.

“Don’t even think about it, son,” a gloved hand rested on his shoulder. A guard. “I’ve seen that look in many eyes before.” Deep Blue blinked. The guard clicked his tongue. “Poor thing. Thinking about stealing are your age.”

“I wasn’t going to steal it, mister. Honest,” Deep Blue turned his head to look at the guard. “I was just looking.”

“Sure, kid. I can tell that you are starving. Where is your mother?” the guard kneels down to his height as Deep Blue turns around to face the guard head on. The god pretends to look depressed by lowering the lids of his eyes and staring at the ground, he head lowers.

“I do not have a mother, mister,” Deep Blue sulks, he added tears for effect and starts to wipe his eyes. He hides his face in his hands, also hiding the dark grin that is on his face. Gullible guard. The guard paused.

“Well, kid, I am sorry to hear that. Look, I need to do my job and take you to the orphanage.”

“Why?” he hiccups and lifts his head, still wiping at false tears.

“Because a law has been passed that all homeless and orphaned children are required to be put in the orphanage.”

Deep Blue recalls that law. He vaguely remembers getting handed a paper requiring that law to pass. He barely even skimmed through the page before signing it, scowling and cursing at the Elders for wasting his time.

But if he goes to the orphanage, he will get free food. But that would also mean getting adopted. But there is **free** food.

“Okay, mister.”

It can’t be that bad.

* * *

 

“I was so wrong…” Deep Blue cursed once he saw the screaming children running around the small building, shouting, crying, laughing, and being annoying. “I hate children.” He crossed his arms and stood in the corner, away from all the nonsense. A child walk up to him, holding a doll.

“Hey! Do you want to pl-”

“No.”

“What about-”

“No.”

“H-”

“Negative.”

The child holding the doll stared at Deep Blue, who glared back. The child’s eyes widened and he slowly walked backwards before running off. The god scoffed. “Leaving the palace was not a good conclusion. And in the future, come up with a better hypothesis. Then go through with it.”

“You talk funny.”

Deep Blue, again, did not jump. His shoulders shook.

A childish laugh. “Oops I scared you!”

The child grinned, flashing a toothy smile. He stood next to the god, leaning against the wall in a casual manner. He does not look over five years old. His eyes are gold and full of emotion. He seems dramatic. His hair is forest green. The locks are long in the front and short in the back. The longer locks are held in pigtails in front of his large ears.

“You most certainly did not, child. I am incapable of feeling fear,” a veined pulsed on the god’s forehead while the green haired boy snorted.

“You’re funny! You talk funny. You should be a comedian!”

“I will do no such thing, brat!”

“My name is not ‘brat’. It’s Kisshu but people call me Kish. Or Quiche but honestly I like Kish more. It sounds better than Quiche,” Kish rambled. Children do talk a lot. “What is your name, shorty?”

“Considering that nauseating nickname you just inflicted on me I should not be obliged to acquaint you,” Deep Blue frowned.

“Shorty it is!” Kish giggled. “I like you Shorty. You talk funny like my brother. He uses big words too! And he is only eight! I am five by the way. But for some reason people think I am older than five. Which is okay but it kind of gets annoying after a while.”

“Okay. One,” Deep Blue holds up a finger. “My name is not ‘Shorty. I am not even that abbreviated...” He holds up another. “Two. Cease vocalizing. It hurts to listen to you speak. Three.” He holds up three figures to empathize his points. “Do not project your vocalization to me. Four. Hither away. Far away. I wish to be alone.”

Kish stared at Deep Blue, grin faded. But then it quickly came back. “We can be alone together! Besides,” Kish cocks his head to the side. “You look like you needed someone to converse with. And tell me your name if you don’t want to be called ‘Shorty’, Shorty!”

Deep Blue paused.  Name? Should he lie? Should he tell the truth? Lying is not that fun when it comes to these moments.

“Biru.” He answered. It’s technically half-truth. He pronounced the last part of his name Deep Blue as Biru, the Cyniclon pronunciation. Dipu Biru is how some Cyniclons say his name. But most just say Deep Blue. Since humans have that influence. Apparently they are too lazy to figure out how to pronounce names.

“Biru? Blue huh. Is that your name? Kind of disappointing. But the name Biru kinda suits you because of your eyes. So Biru Chibi-san is your name!”

“Just Biru!” Deep Blue hissed.

“Biru-chan!”

Deep Blue just glared at the child. And the child grinned back. It was going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. The other chapters are written already too. Like two of them. These chapters are going to be short since I dont know how to write longer ones heh.


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